


Beauty and the Damned

by pinkimartini



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jon Snow knows something, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkimartini/pseuds/pinkimartini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ares and Aphrodite have a red hot romance, there is nothing that stands in their way except her husband, Hephaestus. In this telling, we have Jon and Sansa playing the lovers and Petyr Baelish as her husband. For this chapter, we have Jon and Sansa meeting at a pleasure house in Lys where Sansa is known by men all over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jon's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jon x Sansa Couples Remix, Jon and Sansa have been remixed with Ares and Aphrodite...it's a pretty hot read. Enjoy!

Jon: 

She’s beautiful. The silks and gauze surround her in such a way that her body glows. She was on display in this room; they said he would find her here in Lys. One of his men had found her living in a pleasure house in the Free Cities. Her lovers came from all over. No man had captured her heart. Though they tried, they never gained her favor. The sight of her is better than any Dornish wine he had sampled at the capital.  
His eyes raked her pale, thin body. He drank in her ample bosom and watched her trace the line of her rosy hued nipple. She blinked lazily and her blue eyes were on him. He shouldn’t feel anything for her. They had been raised as siblings. Even if he were her half-brother, he shouldn’t want her. The tightening in his breeches told him otherwise. A smile appeared upon her lips. How he wanted to kiss them. He was not supposed to feel this way even if he knows now they are only cousins. He is Jon Targaryen.  
Jon doesn’t know how to be anything but a sword. His aunt had wanted him to be crowned a king, but it wasn’t who he was. Put him on a battlefield and he knew what to do. Blood on his skin, sword in his hand. The battle calls, no one sings for him. Something about the way she toys with her nipples and opens her mouth to moan beckons him. He isn’t immune to her charms. Her voice is soft when she finally speaks.  
“They told me you would come.”  
“Aye, I had to see it myself.”  
Sansa Stark living in a pleasure house. They said it was rare to see a true goddess of love. Men fought their way into her chamber only to be turned away. Some went crazy from the rejection while others wandered away never to be seen again. The last time he had seen her, she was but a girl. The gods must have known this to be her fate after all the suffering she had endured.  
“And does the sight please you, your grace?”  
Jon ignored her question. He knew damn well she could sense what he was feeling. He not only wanted to bed her, he wanted to take her as his own.  
“I wear no crown.”  
Her eyes narrow, the smile on her lips when she speaks.  
“No, you don’t. Tell me then what is a dragon is doing in a wolf’s den?”  
Jon steps further into her chamber. The heady scent of incense is intoxicating. Is this how she pulls them into her clutches? Is this how it begins?  
“You forget. I’m just as much a wolf as you.”  
He can see the playful look in her eyes now. She sits up from the bed, the silks dropping from her shoulders to give him a view of her body. Jon has been in battle before, but he feels as if this is a war he cannot win.  
Jon doesn’t need to take long strides to get to her large bed. He captures her in his arms and pulls her to his body. He’s caught her off guard, for she is startled by the look in her eyes. It makes him feel good to know he can shake her cool exterior. Staring down into her face, he can still see the girl he once knew so long ago. But neither of them are children and for the first time she is well aware of this.  
“Do you mean to conquer me?”  
Jon searches her face, he can see where her skin has freckled from the sun here. Porcelain to steel. He wonders if he can get through this wall she has built. What he has heard is mostly rumor, but even now he can feel the scars upon her back. When he responds, it is a lie.  
“No.”  
She seems entranced by his lips and slowly, but surely, she moves forward. The kiss is soft, he likens it to a butterfly. They hold their kiss for what seems an eternity. It’s only then he moves his lips, deepening the kiss. She moans against his lips. His hands skate along her skin down to her pert bottom, he takes hold of her and lifts her up. Instinctually she wraps her longs legs around his waist. Their lips never parting as it becomes more passionate. He realizes she wears nothing while he still wears his armor. As if reading his mind, her hands moved to the buckles of his leather cuirass. They parted their kiss once the buckles were undone. Jon set her down in the center of the bed as if she were a delicate gem.  
Shed of his armor, his tunic is loose around his body. Jon pulled the material over his head, he is fully nude now. Her eyes roamed freely over the hard lines of his body. Muscles shaped from hours training with his men. He crawled up the length of her body, placing kisses on every inch of flesh. He took his time when he met her center. Sansa’s body quaked at his touch. Her sighs became mewls until they become loud moans. Later, he would learn there had never been a man to do bring her to pleasure.  
When they coupled, it was a force between love and war. He let her set the pace until she lost all control in his arms. Jon got lost in the moment. He holds her tighter, refusing to let her go when he’s close. It’s the gentle nod she gives him that tells gives him permission to continue. When he spills inside her, they are both out of breath. Their chests heave from their lovemaking. She lets out a long sigh before she finally speaks.  
“Tell me true, Jon, as my liege will you be able to set aside my marriage to Petyr Baelish now that you have slept with his wife?”  
He kisses her hard on the lips hoping he bruises them for everyone to see. He wants to run the man through with his sword. He would love nothing more than to return with his sword dripping in blood to her. Jon wants to take her once more when the blood lust surges within him. Yes, he needs to be within her once more. Jon takes her roughly this time.  
“I’ll rip him apart if he touches you again.”  
“I live in a pleasure house, Jon.”  
“You live with me now.”  
His thrusts become faster now, her body shivering as she soars beyond the heavens. This woman is glowing in his arms. The pace they set is frenzied and when they come together once more, he knows he has been in this place before. It was the brief moment when his mortal life ended. Only he isn’t alone anymore. She’s at his side. This time it is a pleasurable death.


	2. Sansa's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares and Aphrodite have a red hot romance, there is nothing that stands in their way except her husband, Hephaestus. In this telling, we have Jon and Sansa playing the lovers and Petyr Baelish as her husband. For this chapter, we see Petyr is still very much in the game. Sansa goes to Jon where they have yet another heated encounter.

Petyr is watching her from across the room. They’ve been in Lys since spring arrived. Once Daenerys ascended the throne and Petyr had been named for many crimes against the crown, a price had been set upon his head. Even now, it was dangerous for him to roam free through the city. He claimed she was guilty by association, but she had committed no crime.   
Sansa watches him as he cuts his food and takes a bite. The other girls at the table talk about the men that have visited them. They bring up the gifts they received. One looks to Sansa to ask about her latest customer. She shrugs.  
“He was a green boy.”  
The same girl smiles and looks to Petyr when she states.   
“I heard he stayed the night.”  
Sansa wondered if this girl is thinking she can upjump her position within the house. Many girls know she does not share her husband’s bed. How could she when he has a steady stream of girls auditioning in his chamber for a place within the house. She watches Petyr as he inhales. The way he sets his lips tells her that he is unhappy. Customers are never to stay the night. Petyr knows who stayed the night. She knows he was the one to send word of her whereabouts. Still playing the game.   
“I don’t want you to see him again.”  
What did she expect? No one would rescue her from this place. Jon would never be able to take her. The idea of returning to Winterfell was a dream. Hadn’t she learned anything from her time with the Lannisters? There were no happy endings. Petyr is staring at her with his goblet in hand from across the table. She wishes to get up and slap the smug look on his face. She wants to strangle the girl that started this conversation. Instead, she nods in his direction.   
“He left this morning. I don’t believe he will be returning.”  
Her husband takes a long drink from his goblet before setting it down. He reaches for the cane leaning against the table and begins to stand. One of the younger girls is quick on her toes to assist him. Petyr glances to her as if to say she should be the one assisting him. She was the one to cause the injury when he attempted to bed her on their wedding night.   
Later, Sansa is in her chambers for the evening. She feigned a headache and requested for Petyr to turn away anyone requesting to see her. Jon’s arrival had set her off balance. For so long she had worn a mask. No one could see what she was feeling. It was easier to pretend she had no family. Jon being legitimized by the Targaryen queen was the moment she truly felt alone. And now he was here in the Free Cities. Seven hells.   
~  
She takes a litter to the tents erected just outside the city. There is music and dancing. His men are by the fire eating and drinking to their hearts fill. Sansa is dressed in the silks that the women of Lys prefer as the nights are sweltering. Silently padding to his tent, she pauses to speak with his Kingsguard in High Valyerian. Her septa would be proud she had learned to speak it well. She had to learn since most of the men that came to the brothel spoke it.   
These men that guard him do not wear white cloaks, instead they are wearing similar armor to the kind he wears. These must be the Unsullied she had heard so much of. Petyr told her terrible stories of them. One with kind eyes grants her access to Jon. She wonders if he has left word that she may arrive. Did he know she would come to him? Sansa pauses just inside the tent flap and sheds the silk gown she wears.   
When she goes to him, she is clothed in nothing but two gold cuffs given to her by Petyr on their wedding day. She had tried to have them removed, but a sailor from Volantis told her they were enchanted. Her auburn hair is long and loose around her shoulders. A fire burns in the center of the room. She watches Jon staring into the flames with a goblet in his hand. She recalls the stories of him walking into the flames and emerging from the other side without so much as a mark.  
“I’ve thought of nothing but you today. Is this how the madness begins?”  
“So they tell me.”  
Jon turns slightly to see her finally and curses. Tossing the goblet aside, he takes one great stride to her and pulls her into his arms. He wears only a loin cloth and a sheen of sweat from the fire or training, she does not know. His touch is like fire upon her skin. Dark hair falling into his eyes, he catches her by the waist. Jon places a hard kiss on her lips before pulling away.   
“Tell me you didn’t come here wearing nothing, for I will have to cut down every man that laid eyes upon you.”  
“I’d love nothing more than to see you in battle, but no, my dress is just over there.”  
He glanced over to see her silk gown in a pile. Jon places his hand at the back of her head and stares down into her eyes. She could get lost in his dark eyes with flecks of gold and lavender. Just as their time before, he lifts Sansa up into his arms and carries her to his bed. Jon is ever so gentle with placing her in the center. She watches him remove his tunic and toss it aside. He begins to climb over her, arms placed on either side of her body and ready to cage her in. Sansa turns them until she is straddling his body.   
No words are exchanged as she reaches down to tease him with her center. It is she who has him caged now. His large hands cannot decide where they would touch first. Sansa wonders if this is his way of erasing the touch of her previous lovers. Jon sits up and catches the nipple that has pebbled with his mouth. She cries out at the warmth from his tongue sucking upon her skin. Her body rocks against his hard length. She grips the long dark curls and tugs his mouth away. Jon is absolutely drunk on her. Sansa continues to tease his body with the moisture collecting between her thighs. Aggravated, Jon lifts her up and slides her over his length. She cries out at his girth, he reaches to brush a stray tear as it falls. He places a soft kiss as it trails down her pale skin. They stay for what feels like an eternity regarding one another.   
“Let me take you from this place,” he whispers.   
He’s offering a child’s dream. There is no place for her in Westeros. Her home is here with Petyr. Going back to King’s Landing would mean owning up to crimes she did not commit. There was even the trouble with Winterfell. Jon was its only heir as her brothers were gone. She wasn’t the last Stark. Arya was still living if only to seek revenge for others.   
Jon was staring at her closely. Somehow her tears had started to fall freely now that she had allowed herself to think about her family. She wiped them away quickly. What was it Petyr had said? Men bought you for pleasure, not to be reminded of their troubles.   
“Lys is my home, your grace.”   
She pushed him onto his back and began to ride his length with great vigor. His brow furrowed, she watched the soft look in his eyes fade.


	3. Jon's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares and Aphrodite have a red hot romance, there is nothing that stands in their way except her husband, Hephaestus. In this telling, we have Jon and Sansa playing the lovers and Petyr Baelish as her husband. For this chapter, Jon has returned to King’s Landing without Sansa. He gets surprising news from Sam about two ravens.

Viserion is the first to greet him when he arrives in King’s Landing. He looks up at the cream colored dragon soaring high above him before it swoops down to land in the bay spraying those stepping off the ships. His men are used to the dragon now. It wasn’t always that way, before the night. Jon shakes the thought from his head and heads over to the dragon now. Careful to let the beast finish the fish it has clamped within its jaws, Jon takes a seat amongst the rocky shore.   
“Don’t mind me, dear friend, I’ll just wait for you to finish.”  
The dragon sprays him before dumping a share of fish at Jon’s sandals. It is customary to accept the offerings of a dragon, even if they are raw entrails. He lifts a portion and takes a bit of the flesh. This was one way he had learned to bond with Viserion early on. The dragon sprays him once more with the salty water before turning to inspect Jon.   
“I tried to bring her with me. I was not gentle with her our last night and I fear…”  
The dragon’s steam upon his skin is a mix of hot and cold. This was Viserion’s way to comfort him. Jon glanced over his shoulder to see Ghost watching them, Sam at his side.   
“Pardon, I received a raven at dawn. A ship follows with Sansa aboard. Her husband is surrendering to the Queen. There was another raven that followed in Sansa’s hand, she asked mercy for her husband. It was addressed to you, Jon.”  
Mercy. He would show him the same mercy that had been shown to the Starks.   
“You say her ship followed my own?”  
“Yes, it should be here by nightfall. Will you be meeting with it or shall I?”  
Sam nodded quickly before he started down the rocky path with Ghost following closely behind. Jon’s thoughts were on Sansa. Maybe she finally realized it was time to come home. His aunt would welcome her, these days, the grudges felt had long faded. However, one that was still fresh was that of Petyr Baelish. Those that had not bent the knee had been dealt with swift punishment. He wanted Sansa to know she was safe and his aunt meant no harm to her.   
“Has Daenerys been notified?”  
“Yes, she was with the small council when the ravens arrived.”  
Viserion chuffed from behind them, Sam smiled at the dragon as it extended its cream and gold wings to shake off the water.   
“Did he tell you about his fight with Rhaegal? Lit up the sky like dawn. Scared the people down in Fleabottom."  
Viserion dropped his head in shame. Jon grinned as he started for the water’s edge.   
“Did he?”  
“The Queen was worried.”  
Jon ran his hand over the dragon’s smooth scales and felt the warmth emitting. He knew the feeling, it was one he felt when he went to battle. The dragons were never meant to be domesticated.   
“They are young dragons still. I’d imagine they grow bored sitting beside the Iron Throne and wish…”  
“For battle?”  
“I was going to say an open sky, but I must remember—they share my thirst.”  
Blood. When Jon awoke all those moons ago, he had been covered in blood. His first thoughts were of revenge, and yet there were other thoughts. Sansa had been first and foremost. He had seen her in a death dream locked within a tower. Sam knew of this dream and set out to find her. Lys was the last place he would have thought of.   
“Was it true then?”  
“Sansa? Yes.”  
“I take it the reunion went well?”  
Sam raised his brow and gave a knowing grin. For as long as he had known him, he knew what to say to get a laugh. This time it was different. Jon didn’t know if he would survive a separation from her. Aboard the ship, he dreamt of her body beneath his own. What he really wanted to do was run a sword through Petyr and be done.   
“If by well you mean we both wear scars both on our skin and in our hearts?”  
“Jon…”  
“I was just like the others that fall under her spell.”  
Jon had been rough with her. Their coupling had been akin to two lovers taking our their anger on one another. He marked her pale skin with bruises while he wore her bite marks on his flesh. When all was said and done, he had released inside her. He knew she would drink the moon tea. It wouldn’t bother him if he wasn’t around to see it. Viserion chuffed from behind him and broke his thoughts.   
“Might I remind you it was two ravens that came? One of the ravens was by her hand. I’d say while Petyr is surrendering; this is her return.”  
“Winterfell is a ruin. Rickon…he’s happy to travel the King’s Road.”  
“They do call him the God of Wine.”   
“That they do.”  
Viserion gives another chuff before Jon climbed upon the dragon. His eyes clouded over once he touched the soft scales with his rough hands. He whispers with his mind,   
“Valahd.”  
Soon they are high above the city drifting through the clouds. All of King’s Landing is but a memory when they are this high up.


	4. Sansa's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares and Aphrodite have a red hot romance, there is nothing that stands in their way except her husband, Hephaestus. In this telling, we have Jon and Sansa playing the lovers and Petyr Baelish as her husband. For this chapter, Sansa arrives in King’s Landing. Tense times with Petyr. Our lovers meet once again for yet another encounter.

It’s dark when they land. She refuses the clothing favored by the women of Westeros. Her gauzy silk robe is enough for her. The customs would be for the Queen to meet them, but Petyr is a traitor to the crown. The only ones to meet them should be the Queensguard. Petyr has brought the women from his pleasure house along.   
“Please tell Chataya these women are my offering to her. She’s still sour about Jeyne.”  
Sansa thinks aloud.   
“Your death will be payment enough.”  
Petyr’s hand had shot out to grasp her hair. Pulling it tight until her entire body bent, he leaned in close and whispered, “Such bold talk from my wife. Tell me, how will you explain our marriage to the Queen? Surely you will claim the bastard in your belly as mine and beg for its life.”  
Sansa struggled until she caught him off balance and his leg gave way.   
“I cannot claim a babe. The sea is narrow, Petyr.”  
“Ah, yes, my wife, and yet I’m not stupid enough to think you sat and played cyvasse with him.”  
She had heard enough. He would be dead soon and never to speak again. Sansa had married him when he filled her head with regicide. If Daenerys felt any compassion, she would have her dragons burn them when they landed.   
~  
They stepped off the ship to see Daenerys and her Queensguard awaiting them. Her blue eyes searched the faces of those that had caused her harm as a young girl, but she didn’t see any of them. Setting her shoulders back, she followed Petyr as he made his way down. Sansa’s maids had been released once they landed to save them from a bloody fate.   
“Your grace, I had not expected you to meet us as this late hour.” Petyr’s voice shook when he spoke.   
“Ah, but what sort of Queen would I be if I was not here to meet my guests. Irri?”   
A young girl with sun kissed hair stepped forward holding a tray of bread and salt. Guest rite. Sansa groans inwardly recalling her family being offered the same and later being slaughtered. Thankfully, the only one taking the rite is Petyr as the head of his house.   
For a traitor to the crown, Petyr is still led to guest quarters. Sansa is taken down a long corridor that was once familiar to her. The queen must not see her as a threat as she is escorted by the queen’s trusted ladies in waiting. The women chat with her amicably about her journey and ask about the weather in Lys. She doesn’t know how to tell them her days are usually spent on her back, but instead she lies and tells them the weather is nothing compared to that of King’s Landing.   
She sleeps fitfully that night. The nightmares return. Joffrey commanding his guards to beat her. The Hound. Cersei. Always Cersei in her nightmares. Sansa feels the tears upon her skin. Why did she come here? This room, it was hers before. The furnishings had been rearranged and the colors were that of the present house to occupy the keep, but it was still very much the same. She awakens with a start. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she is quick to wipe the tears.   
“You don’t need to do that.”  
Sansa is startled to see Jon step from the shadows nude. It’s his turn to surprise her. Most proper men wear a gown for sleep, but Jon is not like other men. His dark hair is wild, skin bronze from the sun.   
“Your aunt sleeps down the hall.”  
“In the arms of a man she dearly loves.”  
He moves to the side of the bed where it sinks beneath his weight. She welcomes him in her arms, softly stroking his dark curls.   
“This used to be my chamber before. I have no good memories of this place.”  
“Then you’ll stay with me.”  
“I’m a married woman in their eyes, Jon.”  
“This god, Zeus they worship in Lys is not recognized here. Maybe I’ll borrow the customs of the Freefolk and steal a wife.”  
Jon raised a brow playfully that causes Sansa to laugh. She recalls the ceremony with Petyr being performed by a towering man carrying a bolt of lightning. They had both been given a chalice to drink from, Petyr had exclaimed the cup was empty. For Sansa, the cup had been filled with wine. The man called Zeus said the wine was only for those considered to have certain talents. Later when Petyr wanted to claim his rights as her husband and she refused, he said her talent must be parting her legs for coin. And thus began her trade.   
When Jon takes her, he is sweet and gentle. Her sighs are only for him and in the morning when her thighs ache, she will remember how she cried out his name over and over until she remembered where she was. Jon holds her when they are done and he has spent himself inside.  
“Do you think anyone heard us?”  
“I don’t know and honestly, don’t care.”  
He holds her wrist in his hand staring at the gold cuff. Lannister gold. She would never forget the sailor from Volantis showing her the lion sigil. Jon must have seen it now that he is inspecting it closely. There had been a seam once that quickly disappeared before her eyes. Magic. In some ways, the Lannisters were still her jailors. Sansa gave a slight laugh.   
“If you trust me enough, I could have Viserion try to melt these wretched cuffs.”  
“And if he melts my wrists? No, thank you.”  
Jon drops her wrist above her head and moves over her body. Sansa enjoys the weight of his body. He holds her wrists as he reaches down between them and slides two, no, three fingers between her slick folds. She arches her body as his fingers touch a spot deep within her. She says his name over and over, a mantra that she doesn’t want to break. Soon he is removing his hand and sliding into her.   
“Gods, Sansa, I love you.”  
“So it’s not too soon to say then?”  
“No, never.”  
“I love you, Jon.”  
He climaxes and soon fills her with his seed. Grasping for air as they both fall from their peak, Jon makes a move to part from her, but cannot.   
“Jon?”  
“Are you okay? I haven’t hurt you?”  
She shakes her head.   
“You could never hurt me, but it is somewhat uncomfortable.”   
Sansa reaches down between them to touch where they are joined.   
“My love, if you touch me again, I feel that we may make love once more.”  
“As much as I want to, I fear that I’m quite tired and I would like a glass of honey milk.”  
“Honey milk? Do you not care for the sweet wine you were imbibing at dinner?”  
“I regret to say I did not have wine. Though the sea is narrow, my courses are never late, and it seems…oh, Jon.”  
He reaches to catch a tear with his hand.   
“A babe made of love is nothing to shed tears over.”  
“I tell you true when I say I drank the moon tea. Others will call me a great whore of Lys, but there are others that would claim I was a goddess of love.”  
Jon smiles as he kisses her hard on the lips.   
“And what do they call me? A god of war?”  
“Such are the tales they tell in Lys. I imagine that here you are their prince.”  
He pulls out of her and begins placing kisses down her body. Though she aches from their lovemaking, she parts her thighs for him. Unfolding like a flower, he sets to work the petals with his mouth. Sansa is not silent as he slips his tongue between her folds. Jon knows she will likely wake the keep. The others take them all for this would be a death he would gladly take.


	5. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ares and Aphrodite have a red hot romance, there is nothing that stands in their way except her husband, Hephaestus. In this telling, we have Jon and Sansa playing the lovers and Petyr Baelish as her husband. For this chapter, we will see Petyr’s reaction to catching his wife and the magic he wields.

Petyr:  
He had watched them from the hidden space. Enraged at how easily Jon climbed into what should be his marriage bed. Instead he watched the boy they touted as the god of war mounted his wife. His muscles flexing as he pounded into his beautiful wife. He wanted her to fight him off, call him names, but instead she called his name like a cat in heat. Petyr could see her eyes were closed and her long legs wrapped around her lover’s waist. Jon sucked her breasts until her nipples were swollen. Her fingers tangled in his dark curls. The seven take them.   
Petyr couldn’t stop watching them. For a man that peddled to those with base tendencies, moments like this still struck him. He had seen her with men before. There was a pride in watching his wife fuck men with deep pockets. This time was different. He felt as if he was witnessing a religious experience and to disturb them was breaking a spell being cast.   
“I’m the only one for you, Sansa, tell me I’m the only one. Tell me.”   
Jon’s lips were rough as he licked and sucked her skin.   
“Yes. Yes, I’m yours, Jon. You’re the only one for me.”   
Her voice quaked from the emotions she was feeling. Petyr could see the glint of tears as she cried out from her completion. Jon soon roared as he found his release.   
The way they stared into each other’s eyes pushed Petyr to his end. With one hand holding tight to his cane, he used his free hand to cast his own magic. The golden net slowly fell upon them, light as a feather with neither aware. They whispered their sweet nothings until they realized they could not move. Bound to their embrace.  
“The only one, eh?”  
The glow slowly drained from Sansa’s face as she realized her husband was in the room with them. Petyr noticed while the glow was gone, it was replaced by something he didn’t think to see. Pride. The she-wolf was going to protect her dragon lover.   
“You lied to me, Petyr. And when you find me in my natural state, you grow angry and entrap me with my love. You don’t love me, nor I you. Take this net off of us so that you may face Jon like a man and not a craven fool.”  
He looks at the prince struggling against the net. He ignores the insults thrown his way. If he succumbed to the rage within, he would cut Jon down. But then he really would be called a coward.   
“Take this net off, Petyr and let us quarrel like real men.”  
“Ha, no, I will leave you here for the lords and ladies to see you both for who you really are. A bloodthirsty warrior and his whore.”  
Jon continued to struggle against the net while Sansa stared at him coldly. No, there was nothing in her eyes. She was steel. This unnerved Petyr. He backed away from the scene. The damage was done. It didn’t matter who tried to lift the net, none would be able to do so. Only he had the power to remove it.   
“I promise you, Petyr, I will be the one to swing the sword when the time comes. I will hold your head high above for all to see. You will not get away with this.”  
Had he not given Sansa everything? Petyr thought of the young girl he took under his wing to protect when there was a price on her head. Married her when she had no one else. He allowed her to take men to her bed for coin. Never once telling her she could not. He could have been like other men and demanded his marriage rites. He did not. He gave Sansa everything she wanted. Her repayment was infidelity. All he ever did was love her.   
When he was far enough from her bedchamber, he whispered the words that lifted the gold net from their bodies. Let the warrior prince come and strike him down. For he had nothing left. 

Sansa:   
The sound of the sword hitting stone is still etched in her mind. Petyr’s death was quick. Jon stood before the crowd made up of common folk and highborn men and women. Some cheered while others debated the sentence. Had the Targaryen queen been too harsh in her punishment. And what of the traitor’s wife? Sansa had heard the whispers. They called her a whore behind her back and smiled to her face. She recalled what her first husband had said about accepting the labels placed by others.   
She never thought of herself as a whore. If anything, she was sharing the love she had to give with the men that came to her. They cried for release and she gave it to them. They begged to taste her and she let them. Even now she stood alongside the queen, she stared into the crowd at young girls watching her with great interest.   
Jon still wears Petyr’s blood on his skin when she goes to him. They meet in his chamber far from the watchful eye of his family. Their lovemaking is wild and without abandon. She cries out his name when he touches places within her. On her knees, he takes her from behind and marks her as his. There is a deep place inside that Jon has claimed. When it is over, they are covered in sweat and Petyr’s blood. Their limbs tired and their souls sated. They collapse amongst the furs on his bed.   
“I love you, Sansa.”   
He draws lazy circles upon her skin, it’s then that she realizes he has lost his mind like all the others. She doesn’t mind this as she is just as taken with him. “I love you, Jon. Only you.”  
The End.


End file.
